


empty promises

by Anonymous



Series: where is the sight of dawn [2]
Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overuse Of Parentheses, again he just cares too much, doting mashiho, haruto's in like a coma, he gets comfort in the succeeding fic but here hes just sad, hurt...no comfort?, i guess?, mashiho is hm how do i say it...self destructive, not sure how to classify it, self destructive behavior?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: there's four promises mashiho makes, and four promises mashiho knows he won't keep. haruto's more important to keep some silly promises.(but mashiho, they're not silly at all.)a prequel to "look at you (now look at me)"
Relationships: Takata Mashiho & Watanabe Haruto, Takata Mashiho/Watanabe Haruto
Series: where is the sight of dawn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184855
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	empty promises

**Author's Note:**

> uh there's a lot of repetition in threes and fours, but its like purposeful so that should be ok. sorry if it's annoying, but also not really. mention of hospital abuse (?), just bruises, but not to haruto, to a friend of mashiho's that's mentioned. onto fic now

_1\. "i promise i won't stay out for long, so don't worry about it!"_

it's two in the morning.

mashiho doesn't know when it became so late, really. he swears he just had dinner (a bottle of that blue gatorade jeongwoo likes with a bag of pita chips he picked up from the nearby grocery store he'd bought with whatever money he brought, as he'd forgotten to bring food yet again and didn't want to call jihoon to make him something. that'd surely be a bother. organized little mashiho forgetting his dinner? no way.) an hour ago at six in the evening and suddenly night's fallen out of nowhere. it's not his fault the time passes like it does.

whenever he makes his way home, enters the dorm with the soft beep of the entrance at whatever time he comes home, there's always the questions of "where were you?" and "what were you doing?" and "what do you do at this hour?" and "do you know how late it is?"

(he thinks he could answer that he doesn't know for each one.)

"where were you?": of course he was at the hospital, but he goes there so many times a week he doesn't know whether it's a hospital or a third home (he's frighteningly sure of the all the names that belong to the people that come in to attend to haruto). it's a useless question, because everyone knows where he was, and yet they ask anyways, just in case mashiho had landed himself somewhere else (and he think's they shouldn't worry about that, because he doesn't think he could if he tried).

"what were you doing?": he never knows, never needs to know. the time is too slow, drags too long. too fast, he can't catch up. he could be doing everything and nothing and none of it would matter so long as haruto was on that hospital bed and his heart rate was steady.

"what do you do at this hour?": if he was mentally conscious enough at the hour they speak of he could answer this one, but at this point all he's thinking about it his bed (and haruto's, because he's so scared that he could get hurt on that bed where he lays with no one familiar, so scared of bruises showing up on his skin one day when he checks as he cleans haruto in areas where the nurses missed).

"do you know how late it is?": no, he never does. "time isn't real" is what mashiho refutes with normally, because he never knows how late it is. no hour is "too late" when it's for haruto.

now, looking at the younger boy he cares too deeply for (even if he doesn't acknowledge it, for haruto's sake and his own), he really doesn't want to go, because he's still so _scared_.

he's scared that the bruises he's seen once on a friend when he had left them in a hospital for too long will mirror themselves onto haruto's skin (and he does multiple takes each time he stares at the younger for a bit too long and sees purple), scared that if he were to leave he would miss haruto's last moments if they were to come, that his dreams (nightmares?) will come true and haruto will be gone and it will be mashiho's fault for not having been there to see him go (to not let his youngest go alone) when he _could have been_.

and so he does the only thing he can, to remain in control of all those thoughts, to pull the reins on every single one. he stays put, in his corner, and doesn't pick up the phone at the second ring like he used to.

_2\. "he's doing fine, i promise. who else but me would know?" he chuckles, patting doyoung's back as he departs from the dorm for the day._

no questions are ever asked.

whenever he gets a chance to come, mashiho watches from the corner of the room as the doctors and nurses and hospital staff come and go. he mainly likes to come alone. it gives him less to manage.

he's sure they know his name at this point even if he doesn't say a word to them, and he knows they feel him moving over to haruto's side right after they turn around to leave. hell, they probably hear him with how he immediately goes and makes haruto's bed again, making sure the creases are smooth so he doesn't get the sleep lines all over his body that can't fade once he gets up.

mumbling small complaints, he adjusts haruto's head so his neck isn't so strained and watches as the younger's head lolls back, mouth agape, limp and helpless ~~and practically dead~~. he shakes his head at the thought and frowns, carrying on with whatever else he's added to his personal routine.

the times where they do come later throughout the day are now memorized, and mashiho always backs up two minutes before he hears the soft knocking on the door. that much of his normal precision he can maintain, so not to get in the way of those who are here to help ( _not hurt_ , he has to remind himself constantly, _they won't hurt him, not as long as i'm here_ ).

contrary to popular belief, considering how many hours he spends at the hospital, he doesn't know how haruto's doing, and doesn't want to (translation: bother to) ask. the mere prospect of haruto's condition worsening is something he'd prefer not to hear, so he simply makes guesses with whatever he can pick up.

some guesses he hopes are not true, and some he prays to the gods come true.

_3\. "no, listen to me, i'm seriously taking care of myself, promise. you all know how i am, right?"_

_"so you're sure you're not overworking? not to be nosy, but you know the best for yourself."_

_a nod._

his eyes burn.

the bright light of the laptop is blinding (and mashiho thinks he really needs to buy blue-light glasses if he's going to stay here for so long) but it doesn't seem like he's able to tear himself away. he can, technically...but he doesn't _want_ to, so he can't. simple as that.

he wishes the situation at hand was a bit less complicated.

haruto's sleeping soundly (although it's not like he could wake up, right?) on the bed next to mashiho, who's moved onto a recliner he dragged next to the bed some visits ago. the younger's hand is kept close to mashiho as he types and clicks and types, arranging this motive elsewhere and pulling the harmonies down and adjusting the reverb so everything fits.

it's so easy to move things around, to make notes longer or shorter, to change their volume and tone, that mashiho wonders how he'd never asked the other producers before on how to do this. effortlessly, he plays a short tune on the program using his keyboard he'd brought along and listens to it over and over, messing with the controls a bit. he likes how he's in control of this little melody, of _something_ in this room, if nothing else.

he's fully aware of why he's so intent on this piece of music, which is why he's pushed that same awareness to the side.

if he were to focus on this, and only this, then he could ignore the thrumming of his chest, riddled with a low anxiety. he could ignore the small sounds of things shifting and moving and falling outside the door, the door handle jangling slightly with every passerby, and the hitch of his breath whenever he thinks haruto's moving in the slightest, head whipping over just in case he misses haruto's first moments alive again.

and maybe, just maybe, he could ignore how his walls have been burnt to ashes so long ago.

(but it's for haruto, so it's okay. he _promised_.)

_4\. "everything will be okay, i promise. i swear to all the heavens that it will. i'll make sure that it is."_

the news that haruto was suddenly rapidly worsening came as a shock to everyone, including mashiho. there were ways that he could be stabilized, but the estimated time until the one day where mashiho can truly be _okay_ again had been extended for another few months. too long.

his dorm members looked at each other knowingly, then at mashiho, who was front and center when the doctor presented the news. they watch as his fists opens and closes for a bit with frustration before he shakily moves the fist to his other hand. looking from behind, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that mashiho's pressing crescents onto his skin with his other hand, grounding himself. keeping himself from blowing up (in anger or sadness, he's not sure).

even if they'd tried to come up with a plan, jihoon knows their efforts will be fruitless. he listens intently as doyoung and jeongwoo discuss plans to lure mashiho back to rest ("we could say jeongwoo's bleeding really bad! you can't be there hyung. and when he gets home i'll punch him and knock him out onto the mattress that we've perfectly placed so he can go to be—" "you will not be hurting takata mashiho after a long day, doyoung.") and chuckles at their ideas, letting them do whatever they want to do because _he_ knows that _they_ know mashiho won't come home even if such situations occur, if the solutions getting more outlandish says anything.

it's not like he doesn't try to get mashiho to stay, he does. he reasons and begs and scolds but there's just something about the flame in mashiho's eyes that makes him let the younger go every time.

he promised he wouldn't stay out for long, after all.

-

mashiho amps up his routine as a physical response to the news just a bit.

instead of five minutes spent smoothing the creases, it's fifteen and instead of a few hours before dinnertime, there's no dinner at all. instead of returning home, he stays for as long as he's allowed to before the manager comes in and gets him (he always tries to bargain, lie to say he hasn't done so much work, but is dragged out in the end on most days). instead of sleeping, he's working on song after song after song like no tomorrow, figuring things out along the way ("ah," he mumbles to himself. "so that's what the loop button does.").

he does whatever haruto can't, and that's the motto that rings throughout the extended months ("for haruto," he mutters as he leaves the hospital at 4:05 in the morning. "this is for haruto and nobody else"). it's the least he could do. and it's not like he'd feel any better if he didn't.

right?

**Author's Note:**

> pisssss yallknow what it is  
> the time shiho leaves the hospital is ruto's birthdate~
> 
> someone in the last fic asked about mashiruto's relationship and i just had sudden ideas so jazz hands. mashiruto fic is here, short and sweet like yoshiho's. it's not..particularly about their relationship per se, but rather focuses on how mashi feels towards ruto. and this fic...sorry mashi. u pain. but its okay. yoshi comes to help. comments/kudos appreciated :)


End file.
